I Remember You

"Aunt Tegan?"

His voice shakes me from my thoughts, derailing them as if some higher power knew to keep me from wandering down that road today, though in a sense, it seems inevitable. His voice is quiet, hesitant; almost as if he knows he's walking on eggshells. He knows the date only because my eyes have grown distant at the same time every year for the past four years. Today makes five.

You've already been gone for five years.

I look to Chase as an October wind tumbles through, gracing fallen leaves with its presence in hopes of guiding them to a more comfortable resting spot upon the grass that has lost its emerald glow once summer passed. He's just turned eight, his small hands shuffling through old photographs of you, Sara, and his other mum, Stacy. He wanted to bring them here—mum told him that they'd be a nice trip down memory lane for you two. He asked if he could slip a few of us in there, as well. In case you wanted to remember. I told him yes, though told myself that you'd never need pictures to remember what we had. You would always remember me.

The sun is slowly dipping beneath the horizon as his eyes return to me, directing my attention to a specific photograph that's managed to find its way to the top of his small pile. "Who's this with nana?"

The picture is an old one, somewhere around 1998 I would date it, of us with mum at the circus. We look positively stoned, and I can't help but chuckle softly at the look of displeasure etched onto our faces. I recall it crystal clearly now as I inspect it closer, brushing the soft pad of my thumb against the glossy paper that has become worn over time. "That's me and your mum Sara, believe it or not," I tell Chase before setting it against the cool granite of your headstone. "Remember that, Sar?" I ask aloud, hoping that the wind will carry the sound far enough to reach you, wherever you are. "You were so pissed because mum insisted that we go to the circus for one last time because her babies were adults and wouldn't go with her anymore…"

"But now nana has me to take!" Chase chimes in, to which I offer him a nod in response and a small pat on the back.

"Yeah, that's right…you're nana's favorite grandkid," I tell him, though his face scrunches in confusion before he corrects me. "I'm nana's only grandkid, aunt Tegan."

I know this, of course—once you passed, I became Chase's legal guardian, a promise I made to you the day you found out you were expecting. It was the most surreal experience watching your tummy grow with each passing day, as our bodies had been practically identical since the womb. Almost as if watching my own child grow within you, I had become enamored with the idea of raising it with you…

…Though my intention had never been raising your child without you by my side.

"…What was Sara like?"

I can feel myself reeling back at the impact of Chase's words. It's slipped my mind that he was only three when we lost you, that gut-wrenching call in the middle of the night just after I had put him to sleep. It was a Friday, not much past eleven—you and Stacy had gone out to celebrate her promotion with drinks and a night on the town, though your celebration had been cut short by a drunk driver who had pinned your car between his and a divider on the highway. A story that had broken countless families apart, though one that I had never expected to break the binds that bound us together. The neighbors had promised to keep an eye on Chase when I bolted to the hospital, blinded by tears that had never burned so hot until that very moment when I found myself clinging to your lifeless body behind a curtain in the emergency room, damning the gods that I had never believed in for taking you from me, from Chase, from your adoring fans. I recall feeling like a child experiencing death for the first time, shaking you in hopes that the motion would jostle you from heavy slumber. But those beautiful hazel eyes never opened. Those rose petal lips never curled into a mischievous little grin that would surely ask for a punch from me in response. I had lost you, and even five years to the day, it still has yet to sink in.

Those searing tears are becoming familiar once again as I swipe them away before Chase can see them, speaking up to finally answer his question before he becomes concerned. I wish that I could tell him what you were like, Sar. I wish that I could tell him how much I truly loved you, how every fiber of my being had your name stitched intricately into its pattern. But he's too young to understand the unconditional adoration I held and still hold for you, despite the fact that your soul has been taken from this realm to grace elsewhere with its presence. No one is capable of grasping the love that I hold for you.

"Your mum was a superstar," I tell him, beginning to shuffle through the stack of photographs again. Your smiling face is enough to rip the sutures from their place in my healing heart, leaving me to familiarize with the ache of need once more. "Our fans adored her. She was funny and talented and—"

"Beautiful?"

My eyes dart back to Chase in disbelief. It's like he's taken the words that I was hesitant to say directly from my lips, and for a moment, I can see your features in his face. Chocolate brown hair that he's learned to wear in a disheveled fashion after years of living in my company, wide hazel colored eyes that have turned a deep green as yours frequently did in the late fall. I nod hesitantly, bottom lip quivering in hopes of holding back sobs threatening to choke the life out of me. "Yeah," I finally say, pausing on a picture of the two of us with Chase moments after he was born. "…Gorgeous, in fact."

"Do you miss her?"

For a moment, I find myself wondering if Chase is aware of the relationship that we shared, aware of the undying love that was far beyond sisterhood. "Of course I miss her," I say in a small voice that seems to be cracking beneath the weight of emotion. "I miss her more and more every day."

"Did you love her a lot?"

There's a picture there within the pile as I shuffle through, one that I'm unsure of how it wound up there to begin with; a picture of you hugging me from behind, fingers interlocked against my stomach, your chin on my shoulder, my nose nuzzled close against the side of your head. Even to outsiders, there isn't a doubt in my mind that it looks terribly romantic, closely resembling a couple rather than two sisters. A second wave of stinging from the tearing in my heart makes itself known as I find myself nodding in response once more.

"More than anyone could understand, buddy."

"I love her a lot, too," he says gently before moving over to Stacy's resting spot just beside yours, wrapping his arms around her grave's marker and pressing a kiss against the granite. He repeats the action with yours, one that I mimic by pressing a kiss against my fingertips that meet the engraving of your name, tracing its outline. If only I could trace your face one last time to keep the memory of your skin engraved against my touch…

"Nana's taking us to the circus, mum," I can hear Chase whispering to you. "I'll take pictures, promise."

Grabbing for my hand after dusting the dirt from his knees, he signals that he's ready to go, though the idea of leaving is one that I struggle with each time. "C'mon, Aunt Tegan! I promised mum I'd take pictures!"

"We thought we were invincible," I whisper quietly as I find my way to my feet, allowing the first stream of tears to begin their way across cheeks flushed from the cool air. "But even though you aren't here, you never left." Laying a striped carnation against your headstone, I allow myself to separate from you, if only for this moment. The breeze picks up once again, and for a second I wonder if it's your way of seeing me off. Another tug on my hand tells me that it's time to go, but I'll return tomorrow…and the day after that, and the week after that, for the rest of time until I'm finally beside you once again. Until our souls have the opportunity to rekindle and reunite once more.

I remember you.